


psychedelic drabbles

by CountessCzan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessCzan/pseuds/CountessCzan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of drabbles centering on the ships i like in the haikyuu fandom. read if you must.</p><p>for now: bokuaka demon-angel au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. un

**Author's Note:**

> Demon - Angel AU.

It's disconcerting, the way Koutarou's entire being is drawn to him. It shouldn't be that way.

Koutarou is pretty sure he's fucked. The lone figure standing sways listlessly,

the jagged cuts of rhythm flowing everywhere,

and tainting Koutarou.

He's handsome.

He's beautiful.

He's enthralling, monstrous beauty dazing its own existence; he's heavy lidded eyes with irises that toes the line between jade green and oceanic blue, he's dark curls woven carelessly atop a carefully sculpted face. He's sharp cheekbones and tanned skin; plump lips full and enticing, provocative and intoxicating,  _red red red_ , like the river that flows underneath him, like the--

Like the horns that protrude from his head. Like the blood that drips from his hand, claws extended as he stands at the top of the mountain of bodies he had come for.

There are black veins crawling from the jugular and stretching its way to the chest, wrapping around the man's tanned skin intricately, a web of black mass and curled points. He looks like disaster, like chaos, like a  _mistake._ He makes Koutarou itch in a way he can never scratch; makes Koutarou burn slowly, flames licking every inch of his body.

Koutarou is captivated. Koutaro is enraptured.

Koutarou has never seen beauty like that before.

He isn't sure he wants to, again.

 

 

* * *

  
  
"I have made a mistake consorting with you," he whispers, a quiet hush against a neck. The small of his back is covered by a too warm hand, and Koutarou's wings find themselves fluttering gently.

"So you have," murmurs Keiji, lips kissing the top of Koutarou's ear, teeth out and grazing it hard enough to bite. Hard enough to send a shiver down Koutarou's full body, to electrocute his spine into stiffening. Involuntarily he moans, the sound muffled against Keiji's skin, and instinctively he bites.

Keiji's hands now travel from his back to his wings. Koutarou shudders, feeling the exquisite smoothness ( _lie, lie, lie_ ) that Keiji's hands shouldn't have grip his feathers tightly, as if he's wrenching them. "Look at you, a servant of the Heavens, cavorting with a lowly demon like me."

Keiji is seduction personified, and Koutarou is but a mere servant to him.

"What a beautiful mess," Koutarou says in the end.

It's not as if he can ever leave, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s standing under the glare of sunlight, and Keiji has never seen anyone more beautiful.

He’s never been one for beauty, to be honest. Not when all that matters is the blood pumping inside their veins, the exhilarating high of fighting with someone more dangerous than him, the satisfaction whenever he lets his own nature take over his senses.

He’s standing under the glare of sunlight, and Keiji doesn’t want to look away.

He looks like perfection.

He looks like salvation.

He looks like everything that demons are warned of; he’s soft but piercing eyes, golden as the treasure Keiji’s peers liked to hoard, golden as the petals of the sunflowers that Keiji never touches. He’s sharp lips and fair skin and warmth personified, as if standing just near him saves Keiji. His hair even bears the color associated with purity, with cleanliness, with something Keiji will never have – white, the shade of the snow that burns and hisses against his skin. White, the shade of the wings that unfurl behind him, feathery and enticing and _strong._

They used to warn demons like him about creatures like these. _Angels,_  they cautioned, _have the power to smite you. To obliterate you. To kill you, over and over, until you wish you’d never been born. To consume you with their holiness and with their sanctity._

They never warned him of their beauty.

Keiji doesn’t look away, not even when he can feel the shame gurgling inside of him as he stands in the middle of dead bodies, as the blood drips from his fingers. Because the angel is looking his way, too, and he looks just as consumed as Keiji feels.

“You,” was the first word the angel says, staring at Keiji without judgment in his eyes, without fear or loathing or disgust. “are going to be my greatest mistake.”

Keiji doesn’t have to reach within himself for a smile. His lips are curving upwards in their own volition. “May I inquire as to who you are?”

“My name is Koutarou, Angel of the Heavens.”

“Well met, Koutarou,” Keiji deliberately turns away, an unspoken act speaking of his fearlessness. He looks over one shoulder and coyly says, “Your greatest mistake is known as Keiji.”

Keiji is a demon. And demons are known to burn, burn, burn.

In this case, he isn’t sure if he’s the one burning or being burned.


End file.
